


Pygmalion

by VKW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, blaise is more approachable!, draco's a snob, yes this is one of those high wizarding society fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VKW/pseuds/VKW
Summary: The true narcissist falls in love with everything about himself, including his work. A D/G reworking of George Bernard Shaw's beloved Pygmalion. In which Ginny fights the system, Draco does makeovers, Blaise lazes about, and Narcissa knows all.





	1. Chapter 1

**ACT 1**

**Scene 1**

 

_King's Cross. September 9, 2002. 11:25 AM  
  
_

"MOTHER!"

A young, raven-haired woman dressed in elegant robes marched down Platform 9 & 3/4. With her high cheekbones, silky hair, and sapphire eyes, she would have made a lovely sight had she not been hurling curses and rants out of her plump lips for the past half hour.

Another woman, older but just as lovely and bedecked in even more regal robes and extravagant jewelry than her companion, sighed.

"Yes, Astoria?"

The younger woman, Astoria, stomped her left foot in response.

"Don't do that, Astoria, it's unbecoming!" Her mother snapped. "Even in a crowd of the scum of the magical world, we are expected to retain our dignity."

Astoria sneered. "I don't see why we're here in the first place. A servant could have brought Caelum to this filthy Muggle place."

"We're on probation, Astoria. It's our job to mingle successfully with Muggles if we do not want to be on house arrest."

"I see no problem with that."

Mrs. Greengrass shot a tired glare at her daughter. "Please, Astoria."

Astoria huffed, blind like her mother to the Muggle passerby staring and whispering about the clearly wealthy women in the fine jewels and queer attire.

"Well, fine. But there's no legal need for us to stay here twenty minutes later. I do wish Darren would hurry up with the Muggle vehicle. We can't stand here until half-past eleven, with the rest of these commoners!"

A bronze-skinned, well-dressed young man strolled over to the Greengrass women. "Unfortunately, Astoria, it seems we are all to be stranded here for the time being. The storm simply won't agree with my need for sunshine and fresh outside air." Astoria huffed in disapproval.

The gentleman ignored her and instead bowed and kissed the hand of her mother. "Mrs. Greengrass."

Mrs. Greengrass, with a genuinely pleased smile to contrast with her daughter's frown, addressed him, "My word, Blaise Zabini back in England? Am I dreaming?"

Zabini chuckled. "You flatter me, Mrs. Greengrass. I can only aspire to star in such a lovely lady's dreams."

Astoria rolled her eyes just as a young man, sopping wet and dripping water all over the place rushed over to the trio. "Damien! Have you got us a ride?"

The dark-haired man shook what seemed to be a swimming pool of water out of his hair. "There's not one to get. I haven't been blown away to a distant land or anything either, thanks for asking."

Mrs. Greengrass cried, "Never mind that. You can't have tried!"

"Of course I did."

Astoria was now very anxious, as the giant clock ringing in the background signaled it was now 11:32. "You can't have tried at all."

Mrs. Greengrass, for once, agreed with her daughter. "You really are very helpless, Damien. Go again, and don't come back until you have found a ride!"

Damien sighed, "I shall simply get soaked for nothing."

Astoria was furious. "And what about us? Are we to stay here all night with the rest of this trash? You selfish pig—"

"Oh, all right! All right, stop harping on, Asty, would you - I'll go!"

Damien dashed out, only to smack straight into someone stalking towards the group from the throng of other disgruntled wizards and witches standing around. Just then, there was a flash of white lightning in the windows and a peal of thunder rattling the platform, but even that couldn't drown out the exclamation following the collision.

"You GIT! Oh,  _fuck —_ look what you've done!"

"Sorry." Damien muttered, without looking once at his victim, and promptly exiting.

The foul-mouthed stranger was, in fact, a young woman, around the age of Astoria and Blaise. She had bright scarlet hair, but one could not be blamed for being unable to distinguish the color — it was matted with mud and stuck to her skin, giving her a striking resemblance to a drowned rat. Her complexion was almost too pale and sickly-looking. It was further blemished by freckles that seemed to overrun her nose and cheeks and, if examined closely enough, crawled all the way up to her forehead. As if to complete the contrast between her and the perfectly-coiffed Greengrasses, she was covered head to toe in shapeless Muggle clothing. At the moment, she was crouched on the ground, trying to gather the papers she'd had in her arms previous to being knocked over by Damien.

Mrs. Greengrass's eyebrows rose while Astoria sniffed and held her nose in the air. Blaise, however, only hesitated a moment before taking two brisk strides over and bending over so as to help the young woman.

When all the papers were stuffed back into freckled arms, the flame-haired woman straightened and eyed Blaise. "Why, if it isn't the great pompous ass Zabini lowering himself to help us poor commoners."

Blaise responded with a charming smile, which automatically lit up his tawny eyes. "Nice to see you as well, Weasley. Why are you here, and on the first of September at that? Last I heard, you had no enormous brood of children to match your mother's."

Ginny rolled her eyes and shrugged, resulting in water droplets flying everywhere. To his credit, Blaise just cringed a little when a few landed on his neatly-pressed suit.

"I'm actually just here to get people to sign this petition. It's going to get the Ministry to improve conditions for inmates at Azkaban. Did you know they don't even get a proper bed in their cells? I mean, I'd be surprised if you didn't — how much of your family was imprisoned again?"

Blaise smirked and had just opened his mouth to fire back when a smooth, drawling voice cut in. "They also don't get to take walks in the garden. Injustice, am I right?"

Ginny, Blaise, and the bemused Greengrasses turned to the source of the voice: a young man with platinum-blond hair slicked back neatly, a sharp, pointed nose, and glinting silver eyes. He sat on a bench, previously hidden by the masses, and frowned at the sketchbook open in his lap.

The Greengrasses gasped, Blaise's mouth actually fell open for a moment, and one of Ginny's eyebrows rose.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Girl Weasel."

Ginny simply rolled her eyes in response to the childish insult while Blaise stepped forward, having regained his composure.

"Draco, mate, didn't know you were back in town."

"I was always in town. I've just become the resident hermit," Draco responded, still not looking up at his audience.

The darker-skinned man was undeterred, as he was accustomed to this behavior from his old friend, and lowered himself into the seat next to him.

Ginny had just finished counting her fliers (which were steadily becoming dirtier from her muddy fingers) and had turned to leave when Draco spoke again.

"Weasley, you can't change the world by passing out flyers with your grubby little hands. Try wearing a tighter top and actually bathing, then you might get some attention."

Ginny whirled around, eyes flashing with rage, and Blaise and even the Greengrasses froze, prepared for some sort of storm from the petite ginger. But Ginny stood stock-still for a minute, eyes bulging and face reddening, and finally hissed a " _fuck you, ferret_ " before turning back around and stalking away and out of the platform.

The Greengrass women shared a relieved glance and Blaise loudly exhaled.

Draco didn't look up once.

Blaise leaned over into his friend's space and cleared his throat. "Bit harsh, Malfoy, wouldn't you say?'

"There is no other way of guarding oneself against flattery than by letting men understand that they will not offend you by speaking the truth."

"Machiavelli aside, you really had no right to say that to her. I mean, the poor thing doesn't need to be told by you how she's been on the decline or rather, er, even needs to 'guard herself against flattery' and whatnot. I don't know if your hermit status means you're still caught up on all the gossip, but Potter left her a few months back, and Merlin knows what her horrid little Boy Wonder-worshipping family has to say about all that."

Draco finally looked up, an impassive look on his face. "Well, then I just can't be rude to her if she was dumped by the Boy who Saved or whatever the hell it is now, can I?"

Astoria, who had long lost interest in the scene taking place before her, mostly because it had nothing to do with her, cried out, "Look, Mother! The rain has stopped!"

Mrs. Greengrass sighed happily and looped her arm through her daughter's. "Thank Merlin. Let's catch the Knight Bus."

She then stalked off with her daughter, and Astoria's wail of "Mother, no!" echoed off the walls.

Blaise and Draco, both completely ignoring the two women who had just left, continued their conversation.

"Enough about the she-rat. How have you been, Zabini?" One of the corners of Draco's mouth had finally inched up, a crack in his indifferent facade indicating perhaps he was pleased to see the most intelligent of his old school mates.

Blaise grinned in response. "Well, I just got back in the country from a very long trip around Europe."

"I heard," Draco said wryly.

"Although it was fascinating and  _very_ relaxing," Blaise emphasized 'very relaxing' with a rather dramatic wink, "it's great to be back home."

"Your mom had you kicked out," Draco said bluntly, still focused on his notebook.

Blaise exhaled. "Yes, yes she did. You know of any good places for me to squat at for a bit?"

Draco finally looked up and glared. "You're not seriously asking me that, are you?"

"What?"

"Blaise, we may not have talked in years, but you're always welcome at the Manor," Draco paused, and then reconsidered. "Well, at least for two months. My mother is out at our vacation home for the summer, but they'll be back in November. It's up to her when she gets back."

"Please, Draco Lucius, your parents adore me," Blaise arched an eyebrow. "I'm the son that's better than the one they have."

"Watch it, or I may have to rescind the offer." Draco smirked.

At that moment, Damien Greengrass raced back onto the platform, only to find it empty besides the two men seated on the bench, groaned, and stomped back out.


	2. Act 1, Scene 2

**ACT 1**

**Scene 2**

 

_Malfoy Manor. September 12, 2002. 10:15 AM_

 

Lounging in the parlor and comfortable as ever on a luxurious white leather chaise, Blaise was sipping at his tea and perusing today's copy of  _The Daily Prophet_  when he suddenly felt something tugging on his pants. He peered down to see little Milly, Draco's house elf, with her arms politely folding back behind her little toga-clad body and her pinched face perhaps the ugliest he had ever seen.

"Mister Zabini will like biscuits with his tea?" Her high-pitched, shrill voice rang throughout the room.

Blaise sighed, exasperated. He would never complain about living in luxury, but the house elves really could get annoying with their ever-burning desire to please.

"No, Milly, but thank you for offering." He smiled back at the little creature. Two years abroad had taught him that not everybody had servants, and that those who did should treat them with respect, or risk mutiny.

(The reformed Ministry did not see torture as justifiable as a means of discipline anymore — rather unfortunately, if you were to ask Blaise's mother.)

Milly gave a great, shuddering gasp, and her bulbous eyes welled up with tears.

Blaise closed his eyes. House elves had a worse reaction to being treated with any sort of kindness than actually being tortured. He hoped, for the first time in his life, that obnoxious Potter boot-licker Granger was getting somewhere with her stupid house elf movement.

Milly was even worse than most house elves because she belonged to the Malfoys. Right now, her tiny frame was vibrating as she somehow managed to speak through her tears. "Master...  _never..._  Milly never even  _knew…_ such treatment from a master _..._ so kind..."

Blaise rolled his eyes before awkwardly trying to comfort the sobbing house elf for the seventeenth time in three days. At this moment, Draco finally thumped down the stairs, still in his bathrobe and pajamas (which were of course, both designer) with his platinum hair ruffled and sticking up all over the place.

Blaise, on the first morning, had been shocked to find his normally slick friend looking so unkempt, but he'd soon realized that as a recluse who lived all alone, Draco often didn't bother to even dress until two in the afternoon.

Blaise followed Draco into the dining room, where disheveled, pajama-clad Draco sat in a lavishly ornate chair, waiting patiently for Milly to bring up his breakfast.

"Good morning." Draco nodded at an amused Blaise.

In response, Blaise waved the paper in his face. "The Minister's planning a gala in honor of the anniversary of the war reforms."

"And you think that's the best place to reintroduce yourself to society, and by extension, the papers," Draco finished, reaching over the table for a cup of tea.

"Yes, I do. The only people I've seen so far have been you and the Greengrasses. Hardly the best company," Blaise added, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Draco snorted. "You can say that again. I can't stand them —  _any_ of them, not just their wretched daughter — for more than brief and infrequent bursts of time."

"You don't like Astoria? I thought she'd be exactly your type of girl — gorgeous, obedient, pureblooded, no ambition in life but to be able to shop for hours on end without looking at price tags..."

Draco looked critically at his old friend. "You've changed, too, Zabini. Last I knew, we'd have been both competing for that sort of girl," He said, turning to the window contemplatively. "Don't fall further into the trap of self-centeredness. No, I've changed as much as you, if not more. Look at me right now, even," Draco looked back at Blaise with an impassive face. "I'm living all on my own, free of my parents for now, rarely leaving the house, certainly not mingling with society. Am I at all the boy you left behind?"

Blaise grinned wolfishly. "I don't know, are you still an arrogant selfish bastard?"

Draco's smooth expression broke into his signature smirk —  _that_  certainly hadn't changed. "Right on the first two counts, but I finally did confirm — my mother and father  _were_  married before I was born."

The sound of little thuds coming from the hallway reached their ears, and they turned expectantly to the doorway before Milly stumbled in and bowed deeply, flaps of fabric flying everywhere.

"Milly does not wish to interrupt, Master, but you have a guest."

Blaise raised an eyebrow and turned to a frowning Draco. "I'm not expecting anyone."

Draco's expression made it clear that he certainly wasn't expecting anyone. "Bring them in."

Milly left and returned two minutes later. Someone (assumedly a person) waddled in a huge woolen coat with a tuft of red hair sticking out at the top.

"She Weasel." Draco identified their guest almost immediately.

Blaise now had two eyebrows raised and looked over at Draco, who shrugged as if to say  _what did you expect?_

"That's right," said the guest in question, shrugging off her monster of a coat.

"To what do we owe this displeasure?" Draco muttered, who had gone back to forking an omelette into his mouth.

Ginny glared at him while simultaneously blowing a strand of hair out of her face. She crossed her arms over a horrendous pink jumper displaying her name across her chest in gold. She closed her eyes and sighed, "Shit."

Blaise and Draco exchanged glances. Clearly the suspense was meant for something rather impressive (and, Draco hoped, embarrassing).

After a few more moments of silence, Ginny finally opened her eyes. "I need your help, Malfoy."

Blaise managed to keep his jaw from dropping open this time.

Draco, facial expression still frozen into a single arched eyebrow from moments ago, sat still for a second and then stood up, walked closer, cocked his ear, and said, "Sorry?"

Ginny's eyes flamed, but she repeated herself, "I need your help."

Draco stepped back and smirked so widely Blaise thought his face would break in half. "Finally. A Weasley admits they are inferior to a Malfoy."

Ginny stomped her foot. "Never, you albino blast-ended skrewt."

"Why, you little — "

"Ladies, stop it." Blaise drawled, stepping smoothly in between the two.

He turned to Ginny. "What could you possibly need help on from Draco?"

Ginny exhaled noisily. "Fuck, where do I start? Well, I've found, that even as the Minister's daughter, I am rarely taken seriously. Hell, Hermione's taken more seriously than me, and the only subjects she gets passionate about are books and elf rights! At first, I thought it was because I'm not as much of a household name as her, Harry, or Ron, but I've started to realize that's not the only reason. People's eyes literally pass over me, and I'm so tired of it! I have so much to say, but nobody cares beca- "

"Because you look the way you look," Draco interjected rudely.

For once, Ginny didn't argue. "Partly," she agreed miserably. "And if lowering myself to a shallow societal depiction of beauty and elegance is what it takes to make a difference, so be it."

Blaise was sure there must be some fundamental miscommunication. "Wait, Weasley, you want us to give you a  _make-over_?"

Draco scoffed, "Of course not. She wants us to make her into a lady."

Ginny brightened. "Yes. I need to have that special brand of refined sophistication that most people in the reformed Ministry don't have. Of course, on me, it won't be as arrogant as it is on you."

Draco glared. "I thought you needed my help. You can't be slow enough to think insulting me helps your cause."

She rolled her eyes but hesitated. "Well, both of yours," she nodded at Blaise. "I need someone who's actually respected in public, too."

Blaise chuckled. "Well, I'm more absent in public than anything."

"Whatever," Draco snapped. "MILLY!"

The house elf appeared with a loud  _CRACK!_ "Yes, Master?"

"Take our guest upstairs, draw a bath, and get her out of that eyesore of a jumper."

"Merlin's balls," Ginny yelped as Milly yanked her arm down and started to tug. "Now wait a minute, Malf-" Ginny's frightened face disappeared as Milly dragged her out of the room.

Blaise grabbed himself a muffin and took a bite before saying what was on his mind. "Why did you take her up, Draco? You're not getting anything out of this."

Draco grinned, his silver eyes glinting. "Don't you see, Zabini? If I can pass off that little ragamuffin clown as a lady, I can get a Muggle admitted to Durmstrang. It's the ultimate challenge!"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Draco. She used to be quite the looker in our Hogwarts days, but she's really let herself go since. And I mean,  _really._ Not to mention that language. Entertaining, absolutely, but only because it will scandalize the society ladies out of their pantyhose. It'll be a tough job, if not impossible."

Draco raised his eyebrows at Blaise. "Are you saying I can't do it?"

"I don't think anyone can do it."

Draco's feral grin almost reached his ears. "It's on. Twenty thousand galleons — not a single person at that gala of yours will recognize Weasley, not even her parents."

Blaise swiped a plump green apple of the table and bit in. "It's too bad I'm thanking you for your hospitality by stealing twenty thousand Galleons off you."

They both resumed their activities, pausing only to smirk knowingly at each other over the shrieks coming from two floors above them for the next three hours.


	3. Act 2, Scene 1

**ACT 2**

**Scene 1**

_Malfoy Manor. September 13, 2002. 12:45 PM_

 

Blaise strolled down the stairs of the manor languidly after a very satisfying nap and stopped suddenly, surprised to see Ginny Weasley walking across the floor of the foyer.

Actually, it was only by process of elimination that he came to the conclusion that it  _was_ Ginny Weasley. If it weren't for the fact that Draco was a six-foot tall, platinum blond man and Milly was a damn house elf, then he might have actually questioned the fact that the petite redheaded female figure before him was in fact Weasley.

Her hair wasn't the tangled mass it usually was; now she had sleek and shiny curls that fell across her pale bare back like a phoenix's fiery feathers. Her hair no longer fell in front of her face, so her bright hazel eyes gleamed under long, silky lashes. Her lips were rose pink, plump, and parted as she glanced up to check the heavy book on her head. She wore a white halter sundress that showed off her sloped back and a few other …  _assets_. Freckles were still sprinkled all over her body, but they didn't seem half as unattractive as they did a day ago. Instead of marring her now glowing porcelain skin, her freckles could easily pass for golden stardust sprinkled on her svelte figure by the heavens…

Blaise stood at the foot of the stairs, stunned, as Draco walked up to him from behind with a smug look on his face and quietly, so as not to disturb the object of their observation, said, "Still think you're going to steal twenty thousand Galleons from me?"

Blaise couldn't tear his eyes away from the Venus balancing a book precariously on her head ten feet away from them. "You've absolutely transformed her."

"All credit to Milly and my mother's fashion magazines. And she certainly looks a lot more attractive. But Weasley here needs a little more than just physical grooming. I'm working on mannerisms while Milly's out gathering up a new wardrobe," Draco replied, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

Both men's attention went to Ginny again fully when the book finally toppled from her head.

"Fucker!" She growled, swooping down to grab the offending book from the floor.

"Yeah, I'm not too worried." Blaise muttered to Draco as the awe in him made room for amusement. Still, his tawny, sharp eyes swept over every curve of Weasley's body as she dusted herself off and stood again.

Draco, on the other hand, scowled and stalked over to her, his olive silk robe trailing behind him. "Weasley.  _Weasley._ "

"What, Malfoy?" She asked, eyes not on him but rather comically rolled up as she focused on balancing the book precariously on her head again.

He snatched it off her head in one swift motion. "Okay, we're done with this. Etiquette time."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Draco's back as he raced into the library, then turned and smiled at Blaise. "Enjoying yourself, Zabini?"

Blaise smiled, covertly trying to make sure his eyes were still in their sockets and also slightly panicked at the absence of an expletive on her behalf. "Well, the view is certainly dazzling," he winked flirtatiously, inducing a roll of Ginny's eyes and a pleased smirk. "How's it going, trying to balance a book on your head?"

She threw her arms up and huffed, "First of all, I didn't think that was a legitimate thing. Second of all, it is fucking  _hard._ I honestly thought all I'd have to do was wear push-up bras and shirts that make my tits look bigger, but apparently there's more to being a lady."

Blaise snorted. "Weasley, if you just act like this all the time, people will take you more seriously than Potter and his lot."

"I think I'm actually more likely to get thrown out if I say 'tits', actually. Not to mention disowned by my mother." She snickered, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

Blaise grinned back. He'd always liked Weasley as a sparring partner and he was certainly having a hard time at the moment keeping from staring openly at the way her scarlet strands slipped through her manicured, slim fingers, but the Ginny in front of him was something more than that. She was confident and, for once, that confidence wasn't covering up insecurities right below the surface. If you cocked your head a little, they were still there, especially right now, when she seemed to be becoming anxious at his lack of a response and bit her lip, which looked like it might share the texture of a rose petal…

"WEASLEY!" Draco bellowed from the other room.

"The master calls," Ginny sighed before winking at Blaise and sidling out through the left.

He stood there, transfixed, before following her.


	4. Act 2, Scene 2

**ACT 2**

**Scene 2**

 

 

_Malfoy Manor. September 17, 2002. 2:14 PM_

 

Blaise was sprawled across a chaise in the entrance hall, flipping lazily through a copy of  _The Picture of Dorian Grey,_ picked for him from the extensive collection in the Malfoy manor's library by Ginny earlier that week. He recalled the circumstances leading to this assignment.

"You've never read  _Wilde_?" Ginny's mouth dropped open.

"He's a Muggle," Blaise explained, firmly ignoring the way Ginny's lips had parted into a perfect pink pout.

"That's no excuse, you prejudiced prat!" she cried, her braid swinging around with her as she marched through the vast array of bookshelves into the darkness, the thuds of her bare feet against the plush carpeting becoming softer as she disappeared from view.

He called after her, his voice echoing throughout the grand room, "It's not prejudice, Gin — pureblooded children just generally aren't exposed to Muggle literature. That's fairly obvious. Now would you like to take back your accusation of prejudice, or are you simply too prideful?"

She re-appeared at his side out of nowhere, a graceful bright-eyed sprite next to his significantly taller figure, a scowl on her face. "Reading Austen isn't so much of an achievement; don't be smug."

"More like reading the title of a random book off the shelf," he muttered, to which Ginny responded with an outraged gasp and by smacking his shoulder with a small volume.

He looked at her incredulously.

"That's as high as I can reach," she said defensively. He snorted and then sobered up again when fire started to shoot from her chocolate eyes.

Before she could scold him or use the book as a weapon, he deftly took it from her hand, looking at the cover. " _The Picture of Dorian Grey?"_

"It's a good read. Darker than most of Wilde's usual work, maybe, but I figured you might like it for that very reason. That's what I presume Malfoy enjoys about it, at least," she said, narrowing her eyes so he knew he wasn't totally off the hook but had nevertheless distracted her for the moment.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Of course Malfoy's read it. Bloody old bore, nothing to do but read all his millions of books."

"Now, now," Ginny wagged her finger mockingly at Blaise, which was rather amusing considering she was almost half his size. "You would do well to learn something from Malfoy in this regard. He may be a stupid prat, but he's certainly well-read."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Learn that routine from Molly?"

The petite ginger made as if to smack him again, so he took a step back, sniggering. "Now wait a minute, when did you and Draco even have time to discuss literature in between him being a drill sergeant and you trying on all these tight outfits — not that I'm complaining, of course," he said, grinning roguishly.

Ginny made a face and was just about to respond when a snide voice pierced the air.

"Sometimes Weasley reads the titles of the books before she puts them back on her head. Surprised me, the first time she did it — I didn't know Weasleys  _could_ read." Draco stepped out of the shadows on the other side of Ginny, who turned to face him.

Blaise raised his eyebrows both in surprise and as a warning in response to this rudeness, but Draco's silver eyes were focused downward on Ginny, whose hands now gripped the sides of her hips.

"Malfoy, be more subtle about your little tests, why don't you?" She retorted flippantly before stalking out the aisle.

Blaise watched her leave before turning back to Draco, whose indifferent expression hadn't changed, except for one raised eyebrow. Blaise recognized a Malfoy's version of impressed when he saw it.

"Nicely done. She's been progressing at a rate I certainly couldn't have predicted," Blaise complimented Draco.

Draco smirked and stepped closer as if to say something, but was interrupted by Ginny's voice, as she'd paused by the doorway, which she now leaned against, arms crossed across her chest and eyebrows arched.

" _However_ , don't think that if anybody was this disrespectful to me in real life, their arse wouldn't be getting kicked." With that, she swiveled away and out the library.

Draco rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple as Blaise chuckled. "Of course not," the blonde muttered.

"That girl's going to drive you crazy, mate."

Drifting back to his current situation, Blaise picked up  _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ from his chest again. To be perfectly honest, it was a little slow, but he could certainly see why Draco might enjoy the novel, which centered on a handsome, cunning blond man with many vices, the least serious of which was narcissism. He could certainly imagine a young Draco curled up in the library with his Muggle book, far from Lucius's reach.

Personally, Blaise felt the book would be significantly more interesting if this humorous and charming Lord Henry were the protagonist. Hedonism was entertaining; tragedy, less so.

He wondered what Ginny liked about the novel, since neither the environment of indulgence or entitlement seemed like something she would be interested in. Then again, the past few days had done nothing if not show him that he didn't really know the youngest Weasley.

He shut the book again, closed his eyes, and sighed, rubbing a hand through his thick dark curls and wondering what certain silky auburn strands would feel like.

Just then, a loud banging came from upstairs and caused Blaise's eyes to snap open from their daydreams. Draco, dressed in elegant dark robes and rushing down the stairs, skidded past an extremely concerned Blaise. Draco Malfoy did not nearly trip down stairs, rush around, or dress in an appropriate manner before 3 o' clock, as Blaise had recently learned.

"Draco? What's happening?"

Draco whirled around and pointed at Blaise with one hand while shoving the other into his robes for a wand. "Shut up. And definitely do not talk about Weasley."

He then whirled back around and tapped his wand to the door, which gracefully swung forward with a light tinkling sound, revealing behind it a beautiful platinum blonde woman wearing midnight blue robes and a frown on her face. "Merlin, Draco, took you long enough."

Blaise shot up,  _Dorian Grey_  thudding to the floor, all but forgotten.

"Mrs. Malfoy!"


End file.
